


The Meeting

by GingerFerret



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Awkward Romance, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Ficlet, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Humor, M/M, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-24 00:59:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10730889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerFerret/pseuds/GingerFerret
Summary: Draco has a run-in with Potter in the hospital wing. Something happens that makes him doubt his own judgement.





	The Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Only my third fic, people. Just discovered that I'm no good at writing summaries :-/  
> Hopefully the story is better than the cover :) Hope you enjoy.

 

Not more than 45 minutes had passed since that dreadful meeting in the hospital wing. Well, 43 minutes and 35 seconds to be precise, but who was counting? Draco certainly wasn't. What he _was_ doing, was pacing the floor of his dormitory, nearly creating a groove in the stone floor between his bed and the door. 

Indecision was his problem - well, no, Potter was his problem, followed immediately by indecision. Of course, his struggle with decision-making was a direct result of his run-in with Potter...45 minutes and 3 seconds ago. While Draco contemplated this, he realized he was stalling, causing a fresh bout of pacing which was threatening to ruin the soles of his favorite boots. 

He sat down on the edge of his bed, heaving a defeated sigh. This was going nowhere. 

\---

By a bed under a window in the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey was carefully transferring a small amount of potion from an orange vial into a silver goblet standing on the bedside table. A tuft of wild, black hair sticking out from under the covers revealed that the bed was occupied by none other than Harry Potter. He laid completely still. Not because he was gravely injured or even unconscious, but because he was in a state of complete and utter shock. 

About an hour ago, he had been sitting against the headboard, propped up on several pillows, reading a rather dull book about a wizard trying out for a Muggle football team, thinking how nice it would be to have a visitor. Little did he know that his wish was about to be granted in the most unexpected way imaginable. And that the fulfillment of said wish would likely cause him to combust with embarrassment, should he ever dare venture beyond the doors of the hospital wing again. 

Thus, he laid completely still feigning sleep in order to be left alone, lest said visitor come back to demand an explanation. 

\---

One hour, twelve minutes, and 31 seconds after what Draco had dubbed "The Meeting", he found himself stalking determinedly towards a tuft of wild, black hair sticking out from under the covers on a bed in the hospital wing. When he reached the tuft, he skidded to a halt and cleared his throat loudly. The tuft of hair jumped. 

When nothing else happened, Draco cleared his throat again, this time a bit louder. Nothing. He felt the heat of justified indignation creep up from his neck to tint his pale cheeks, and ripped away the covers on the bed in front of him. Potter stared up at him with huge, terrified eyes, stiff as a board and apparently holding his breath. Draco's determination didn't sway - if anything, he felt emboldened by the look of sheer terror on the other boy's face. He pulled himself up to his full height and barked out in an imperious tone: "Potter! I demand an explanation!"

For a moment he thought he was going to have to shake the shell-shocked man in front of him, but just before he had the chance to reach out and grab his pajama-clad shoulders, Potter opened his mouth - and wheezed... Draco began to consider if, perhaps, he had misunderstood something vital, and he started to feel a little uneasy. Up until now he had been indignant, angry, shocked - even a bit offended. But now, Potter's obvious discomfort made him doubt his thoughts about the man's intentions. Had they not, after all, been an attempt to ridicule? Could there be something more...sincere...behind the Gryffindor's previous actions?

Draco felt a sudden jolt of excitement. If he had been wrong about this, and Potter hadn't in fact been an arrogant arse, aiming once again to amuse his friends by making Draco look a fool, then perhaps this meant something completely different? Something Draco had only ever dared dream about behind closed bed hangings. 

He took a steadying breath. In the bed, Potter once again looked petrified, which was a shame, since Draco loved the way his muscles showed beneath his clothes when he moved. "Potter," he said, this time a bit gentler "you _kissed_ me! What were you thinking?!"

\---

Harry found himself unable to move. The Slytherin towering over him looked positively livid - and with very good cause, if Harry said so himself. Being kissed by your arch rival while wholly unprepared must have been a harrowing experience. Harry was nothing if not sympathetic. However, expressing his sympathy and offering his sincere apology would require the ability to actually speak, and at this precise moment, speech was one of many basic abilities that eluded him completely. 

His original plan to refuse to acknowledge the presence of Malfoy in the room, had been abandoned the minute the bedcovers had been violently ripped from his petrified form. There he stood, demanding an explanation. The one thing Harry was in no way able to accommodate. 

How could he possibly explain that when the Slytherin had stood there - wholly unexpected - by his bed an hour earlier, asking what the hell Harry had got himself into this time, a shaft of sunlight had fallen on his form from the window behind him, making his white-blond hair look like a halo around his head, and that it had been the most breathtakingly beautiful thing, Harry had ever seen? 

No. Better suffer the no doubt lesser consequences of an unwanted kiss, than confess something so utterly bewildering and sense-defying. Harry kept his mouth shut. 

\---

This was ridiculous. Wasn't Potter supposed to be a Gryffindor?! Then why did he display such an utter lack of courage at this moment, when Draco _really needed_ to understand, what the bloody hell was going on?

A kiss had been the very last thing Draco had expected from The Savior, when he had happened upon him a little over an hour ago. 

His Arithmancy assignment had given him a grueling headache, and he had decided to go ask Madam Pomfrey for a pain relieving potion. He hadn't expected Potter to be sitting there, propped against the headboard of a hospital bed on a mountain of pillows. When he spotted him reading some inane book, Draco had not been able to deny himself the opportunity to mock him, when it so readily presented itself to him. With a disdainful sneer in place, he had sauntered towards the unsuspecting Gryffindor. 

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Our Savior, resting upon his throne. What the hell have you got yourself into this time? Been trampled by a stampede of adoring fans? No, don't tell me - a Love Potion?" Draco snickered. The sunlight was warming his back through a window, and shone brightly on Potter's face. The black-haired man's expression was unreadable. As a matter of fact, he looked as if he hadn't heard Draco, which was a shame since Draco was in top mocking-form. Potter just stared at him stupidly, lips slightly parted and eyes strangely huge - even for him. 

Well. This wouldn't do. Potter would just have to acknowledge Draco's superior wit. Draco moved closer to the bed, leaning over Potter, waving a hand in front of his face. "Hellooo, Potter. Are you there?"

And that was when it happened. Without the slightest warning, Potter surged forward, grabbed Draco by the collar of his shirt, and pressed his mouth against his! Draco immediately lost the ability to think, move - even breathe. What. The. Hell. An eternity seemed to pass with Draco just standing there, allowing Potter to move his lips gently against his own. Simultaneously, time seemed to be standing still or even cease to exist. 

A soft hum from Potter finally ripped Draco back to reality, realizing that this could only be a joke. A big, fat joke on Draco's behalf. Of course it was. Any moment now, Potter's little friends would burst out from behind the curtains surrounding the bed next to Potter's, laughing their heads off. Draco could not let that happen. 

He tore himself away from Potter's grip and stormed out of the hospital wing, not daring to look back. 

\--- 

Harry had to admit that Malfoy was right in demanding an explanation. However, it wasn't easy remembering how to speak, when the man of one's most private of guilty dreams was standing in front of you, looking like a vengeful angel. Harry was in for it, no doubt about that. The Slytherin hated him still - seemingly with a slightly lesser intensity than before the war, but still the disdain was burning bright. It was not advisable to declare one's unexpectedly amorous feelings to someone so unlikely to receive such a disclosure with anything but scorn. 

Well. Being a Gryffindor and all, Harry took a deep breath and sat up against the headboard. Looking the blond man straight in the eye, he braced himself. "Ehh...I'm sorry, Malfoy, I truly am. I don't know what got into me...well, actually..." He trailed off. Merlin, this was harder than facing Voldemort. The look on the Slytherin's face was contemptuous. It killed Harry a little inside. Well, he might as well let the cat out of the bag, seeing as he had already made a complete fool of himself. 

"The thing is...Draco..." At the sound of his given name, Malfoy's eyebrows rose slightly, and the hard lines around his mouth softened minutely. Harry took this as a good sign. "The thing is that I...don't hate you anymore. In fact I might...perhaps...have a little, no actually a medium-sized crush on you..."

The blond's jaw dropped and his eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. Harry decided to pluck up the last of his famed Gryffindor Courage and said: "No. I may as well be honest with you. I've been in love with you for at least eight months. I don't know why, and I'm aware that it defies common sense. But in my defense, I do have a bit of a track record when it comes to erratic and rule-defying behavior. At least according to public opinion." 

Nothing. 

In some sort of surreal role-reversal, the Slytherin now looked positively petrified. His grey eyes were staring into Harry's green ones, and Harry didn't know what to do. He had expected a wide variety of reactions - spanning from scornful laughter to burning anger, possibly even the use of fists. Almost certainly a few choice hexes. But this. This was unexpected, not to mention unprecedented when it came to Harry's previous interactions with the blond. He had a way with words. Well, not right now apparently...

Harry waved a hand in front of Malfoy's face. This seemed to spur the man into action. He swiftly moved closer towards Harry, taking him completely by surprise by sitting down on the bed. Harry's heart suddenly hammered away in his chest. What was going on?

"Well," said Malfoy "isn't this quite the coincidence." 

His face betrayed no emotion. Harry felt his own hands tremble. Malfoy...no, Draco leaned forward, bracing his hands on either side of Harry. When he was close enough to kiss, he whispered: "It just so happens that I have been feeling rather amorous towards you as well since the start of the year. Now, what should we do about that?"

Harry realized he had been holding his breath, not knowing what was to transpire from this highly unlikely situation. Now, he released his breath in a tremulous sigh and leaned forward minutely. The slight movement seemed to be all that was needed. Draco moved forward and pressed his lips against Harry's, and Harry's hands moved to tangle in the flaxen hair on their own accord. 

The kiss was sweet, soft and ended entirely too soon. Draco moved back a little and looked at Harry. His expression was no longer guarded or blank. It was soft and open, and Harry felt a warm fluttering in his midsection. He smiled. 

\---

In his dormitory that night, Draco fell asleep almost the minute his head hit the pillow. It had been an eventful day, to say the least, and as he made himself comfortable under the emerald green bedcovers, he thought about how sometimes magic happened on its own. "The Meeting" could not have been a coincidence, no way. Happy coincidences like that only happened in fairytales, and Draco's life was no such thing. 

Well, Draco thought idly as he drifted off to sleep, perhaps Potter...Harry...was a bit of a Prince Charming...

End


End file.
